Never to forget
by Clopin K. Trouillefou
Summary: Young Basil doesn't get along with his teacher, but this dislike leads to the worst horror...


A young mouse made his way home after a hard day at school, the work itself wasn't hard, it was the other students he had a problem with. He was a small, scrawny mouse of about seven years, hazel fur with a yellowish underbelly. His feet were just slightly too big for his small thin form, his tail too long (it was frequently stepped on). He opened the door to the flat he lived in with his parents and brother. He was the younger of the two children, not to mention the smaller. His father was a Scotland Yard detective whose mother had been the sister of a famous French artist. His mother, a lovely young woman of considerable talent and the source of his coloration. His brother, Myerricroft, was larger and heavier with light brown fur and white underbelly, like their father.  
  
  
  
Sherry Port turned to look as her younger son sat down at the table to do his homework. He was such a hard working little boy, quiet and polite, too at that, though not the most well behaved at home. Of course that had to be expected with two boys, especially when one was so much older. She set down a plate of cookies that she'd just finished and a glass of milk for Sherringford.  
  
"Rough day, Sherri?" she asked.  
  
The little boy sighed; somehow his mother always knew, he never had to tell her and he wished she'd stop mentioning it.  
  
"I keep telling you to go to the headmaster about those boys," she said.  
  
The headmaster, was she crazy? He got nervous enough just asking questions of the teachers, let alone the headmaster. Sherringford Basil Port, besides being small and skinny, was probably the shiest one in his school.  
  
"I know, Mummy," he replied, "but can't you or Dad do it?"  
  
"Why can't you?" she asked, "You're a big boy, you can tie your own shoes and everything."  
  
"He's a chicken Mum," Myerricroft said, "He's got yellow on him for reason, ya know."  
  
"Myerricroft Port!" she scolded, "Stop it!"  
  
"Hey, Sherri, what's this?" he queried taking something out of Sherri's schoolbag; it was an old stuffed mouse with an Inverness and deerstalker, "Don't tell me you still use this!"  
  
"Myerricroft!" Sherri cried, "That's mine!"  
  
"You bring this to school with you?" Myerricroft laughed, "You bring this dumb thing everywhere with you?!"  
  
"AAHH!" the younger mouse screamed and bit his brother's arm, grabbing his toy back.  
  
"Sherringford Basil Port!" his mother yelled, "What have I told you about biting?"  
  
"Not to?" he guessed quietly, clutching his toy.  
  
"That's right," she snapped, "Now go to your room! You just wait until your father gets home!"  
  
  
  
  
  
When Detective Basil Port arrived home, he expected to find his two sons working diligently and his wife cooking supper. Instead, Myerricroft was working at the table and Sherringford's glass of milk and cookie, but no Sherringford.  
  
"Uh-oh," he muttered, glancing at his wife, "What did he do, love?"  
  
"He bit Myerricroft," she replied, chopping a piece of carrot, "You know where to find him."  
  
Basil climbed the stairs to his younger son's room and pounded on the boy's door; he was a mouse of short patience and temper. When he received no answer, he pounded on it again, trying the latch; Sherri had locked it.  
  
"Sherri!" he yelled, "Open this door right now!"  
  
He heard the latch being unlocked, but the door didn't open so Basil opened the door then slammed it behind him. Sherri sat on his bed, back to the door, waiting for what he knew was coming: a whipping. His father wasn't abusive, just extremely strict and hard when he was angered, but kind and gentle otherwise.  
  
"When I say open the door," his father said, "I mean open it, don't just unlock it. Speaking of which, I told you never to lock the door, ever! Is that clear?"  
  
"Yes, Dad," Sherri replied.  
  
"Turn around and look at me when I'm talking to you, boy!"  
  
"Yes, Dad," he turned around.  
  
"Now, get your tail up and go fetch a switch. You know the drill, now move it!"  
  
  
  
  
  
Sherringford lay across his father's lap, biting back his cries and tears as the switch struck his bare bottom. Finally, he was set down and his trousers pulled back up, but his punishment didn't end there.  
  
"Now, young man," Basil said, "There'll be no dinner for you tonight, is that to be understood?"  
  
"Yes, Dad," Sherri whispered.  
  
"Good," his father said, "Now stay put."  
  
As Basil descended, there came a knock at the door; it was one of Sherri's teachers, Professor James Ratigan and (unbeknownst to others) a criminal mastermind.  
  
"Please, Professor," Basil said motioning for him to sit, "have a seat."  
  
"Thank you, Mr. Port," the rat replied cordially.  
  
"How might we help?" he questioned.  
  
"I want to discuss your charming son," Sherri's teacher replied.  
  
"What's wrong?" Sherry wondered.  
  
"Well," he sighed, "I'm sure you've brought him up well, but he has a certain disregard for respect toward his elders."  
  
"Oh, how so?" Basil asked.  
  
"For one thing he will disregard the instructions and work I give him until I threaten him with being sent to the headmaster. He also makes it known that he despises me and shows no respect whatsoever."  
  
"That doesn't sound like our Sherri," Mrs. Port commented.  
  
"Well, Ms. Sherry, dear," Ratigan said with gentile, "as I said, I'm sure you've brought him up well…"  
  
"He has been raised as a well-bred gentle-mouse, Ratigan," Basil snapped, "And I don't appreciate these absurd accusations you've made against our son."  
  
"Mum, Dad?" a small voice came from the stairs.  
  
The adults turned to see Sherri on the stairs; he'd heard Ratigan's voice and knew that it was nothing good as the rat hated him.  
  
"Sherringford!" his father snapped, "Back upstairs.  
  
"What do you want, Ratigan?" he demanded of the rat, ignoring his father.  
  
"That is none of your concern, boy," the rat retorted.  
  
"Then go back to the sewers, sewer rat!" the boy snapped.  
  
"Sherringford!" his mother gasped.  
  
"I will take my leave of you," Ratigan turned to leave, "Good night!"  
  
  
  
  
  
Sherringford tossed and turned trying to get to sleep, but he listened to his father's angry voice as he argued with Sherry. Then all went silent and the boy turned onto his front to get to sleep, but his slumber was short lived. A scream echoed through the house from downstairs. The two boys and their father, who'd come upstairs after the argument, raced downstairs. Sherry raced up the stairs to her husband for protection from… Ratigan!  
  
"Ratigan!" Basil yelled, "Keep your hands off my wife!"  
  
"Your wife?!" the rat snapped, "I had claims to her long before you did!"  
  
Basil leapt on him and began wrestling, but Ratigan was a rat, larger and stronger than the smaller mouse and soon had the upper hand. He drew a pistol and shot Basil full in the face before he could react. He then grabbed the boys' mother as she screamed and brutally raped her. Sherri buried his face in his brother's protective arms, but could not keep from watching.  
  
  
  
  
  
Ratigan, after raping and murdering their mother, whom he claimed to have loved, turned on the two frightened boys. He drew a dagger from within his coat and advanced toward them with it raised. He brought it down, leaving a large gash in Sherri's head and a deep wound in Myerricroft's arm. As Sherri cried from the pain, Myerricroft struggled against his tears; he had to be strong for his little brother. Ratigan raised the dagger with every intention of killing them too, but stopped. No, that would be merciful, it would be far crueler to leave them alive. Till daybreak, he threatened, beat, and tortured the two small mice into never revealing who had done these deeds.  
  
"Scotland Yard will hear of this!" Myerricroft swore.  
  
"If you know what's good for you, they won't," Ratigan growled.  
  
"You can do what you want with me," he said in response, "but you'll not keep me quiet!"  
  
"Very well then," the villain tore Sherringford from the boy's arms and held the dagger to his throat, cutting it ever so slightly, "Say good-bye to your worthless brother!"  
  
"NO!" Myerricroft cried.  
  
"It's either that or remain silent, boy!"  
  
"As you wish, just leave Sherri alone! Just please, don't hurt him!"  
  
"That's better," the rat threw Sherringford's still body onto the stairs, "One word and he dies!"  
  
Myerricroft took his still brother into his arms; he still breathed and his heart still beat but he was barely alive… 


End file.
